


Silhouettes & Movement

by sarahcakes613



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Clothing, Hand Jobs, M/M, Tailor Sonny Carisi, Tailoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Sonny's faced with a client who needs a pair of trousers altered because they're too snug in the crotch.or, Rafael's dick's too big but Sonny's got it handled.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72
Collections: Barisi Professions Bingo





	Silhouettes & Movement

**Author's Note:**

> This would absolutely NOT exist if it were not for Clara, who is an actual factual tailoring expert. God bless cross-fandom friends who have no idea what you're talking about but still help you out.

Sonny is tracing a piece of fabric, one finger gently holding the pattern in place on the tracing paper, when he hears the bell over the front door chime. He looks up, startled out of his focus, and manages to run the pounce wheel right over his finger.

He pouts and sticks his finger in his mouth, sucking at the tiny needlepoint dents as he walks out of the back room into the main area of the shop.

The man who steps into his shop looks like he’s fresh out of one of Sonny’s competitor’s shops, a clearly bespoke suit under a handsome camel hair coat. A light dusting of snow sprinkles his hair and pairs well with the bright red of his nose and cheeks.

“Good afternoon, welcome to Dom’s.” Sonny greets the man. “What can I do for you?”

“Are you Dom?” The man asks.

Sonny waggles his hand. “I’m the junior. Call me Sonny.”

The man holds up a garment bag. “I have a pair of trousers that need letting out urgently and my tailor’s decided to return home to Wales quite unexpectedly. Your shop comes highly recommended.” He looks around as if he’s not sure the reality matches his expectations.

“Well, we do our best,” Sonny gestures to a fitting room at the back of the storefront. “If you’d like to change, I can take your measurements. When you say urgent do you mean before the end of day?”

“No,” the man admits, shrugging his camel hair off and hanging it on the coat rack before moving to the fitting room. “I need it by the weekend though.”

Sonny calculates while the man gets changed. It’s Wednesday now, so if it’s a simple matter of hemming, he can easily have it done without impacting his current roster of work.

When the man steps back out, Sonny waves him up to the small platform. “If you could just stand up here, Mr…”

“Rafael Barba.” He holds his hand out and Sonny shakes it.

“Alright, Mr. Barba, let’s see what we’re working with.”

Sonny circles the platform. Barba’s removed his suit jacket and fasteners and is standing in a pair of heather grey tuxedo pants and a lavender dress shirt. The trouser hem just grazes his sock feet and the waistline sits neatly against his back with no gaping. Sonny doesn’t see anything to indicate an ill-fitting trouser.

He circles back around to look up at Barba. “I’m not sure I see any problems with the fit, Mr. Barba.”

Barba grimaces. “Trust me, there’s a problem. It’s – ” He sighs and waves at his groin. “The crotch is too tight, and if I go up a size everything else is too loose. The bride was very specific on my wearing slim fit pants and I’m pretty sure she’s doing it on purpose.”

“Well, what the missus wants, right?” Sonny unbuttons his jacket and lays it over a bench. He’s wearing one of his own creations today, a dark green check pattern that he thinks suits the wintry weather. There is a subtle crimson red weave throughout, so thin you have to look for it, but it makes him feel like a fashionable version of one of Santa’s elves.

“Oh gods no,” Barba says with an elegant shudder. “I’m the best man.”

Sonny pulls the fabric measuring tape from around his neck and kneels in front of Barba. He looks up the line of his leg to his crotch, which is conveniently at eye level and it is only Sonny’s years of experience and professionalism that keep him from blurting out something entirely inappropriate.

Up close he sees the problem, the pulling in the seam and the stretch of fabric around the zipper as the pants strain to contain what is a fairly sizeable bulge. The zipper not just splitting is a testament to the strength of the thread more than anything, based on how distended it is.

He looks up Barba’s torso and catches the man watching him, one eyebrow in a sardonic lift. He clears his throat with a delicate cough.

“What side do you dress?” He asks, trying to focus on the task at hand. It’s all part of the job, he reminds himself. A man’s tailor knows him as intimately as a lover.

The fabric ripples as Barba shifts, spreading his legs slightly. “To the left, generally.”

Sonny smooths the tape down his leg. As he holds the top end in place, his knuckles brush against the bulge and he coughs again.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and Barba hums an acknowledgement.

He makes a note of the inseam measurement then folds up the hem to check the amount of allowance built into the fabric. He stands up quickly, blood rushing to his head in a welcome distraction from other places it wants to rush.

“I can loosen things up a little bit,” Sonny says, slinging the tape measure back around his neck. “But only about a quarter, maybe a half-inch at the most.”

Barba sighs. “I don’t suppose you could add more fabric?”

Sonny shakes his head. “Not unless you want something looser overall, like a pleated trouser. Which I’m guessing isn’t an option?”

"No, absolutely not. As inconvenient as they are right now, I like my balls where they are and if I make any drastic changes to the wardrobe there’s a very real chance the bride will remove them while I sleep.”

Sonny stands back, arms folded, chewing on his lip as he considers the man standing on the platform. From further away, the bulge is still noticeable but he tries to ignore it as he looks at the whole picture.

“What’s your preferred underwear?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Uh. Calvin Klein briefs?”

He turns to a set of drawers and flips through the options, ultimately pulling out a pair of Saxx briefs.

“Change into these,” he instructs. “You’re dressing for comfort, which I get, but with larger um – it's important to dress for support as well. This is a really good brand for bigger guys.”

Barba takes them with a smirk. “Is that personal experience speaking?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sonny mutters, and then freezes. It’s the standard sort of response he’d give to a friend he was trading insults with, and he normally never speaks with clients so casually.

The other man gives him a considering look, his piercing eyes sweeping down Sonny’s entire body and back up.

“Yeah,” he says, “I would.”

He saunters off to the fitting room, leaving Sonny staring at him with his mouth agape.

He manages to collect himself, and when Barba returns he forces himself to look him in the eye as he steps back up onto the platform. The change is already visible, the inseam is still stretched but the zipper does not look to be as near a breaking point as before.

“I feel the difference,” Barba admits when Sonny points out the change in fit. “Will it be enough, combined with letting out the inseam?”

“It should be,” Sonny says. “When’s the wedding exactly?”

“I need to be wearing these and ready to greet frazzled mothers by 3pm on Saturday.”

“Do you have time Saturday morning, or were you hoping to pick them up on Friday?”

Barba considers the options. “Friday would be better, the venue’s a bit out of the city and I’m not sure what kind of time I’ll have in the morning.”

Sonny gestures for Barba to change back into his suit and pitches his voice so he can be heard in the cubicle.

“I can have them ready by Friday afternoon, but I’d like you to come prepared to hang around a bit just in case there’s additional work I need to do.”

The response is a muffled agreement. When Barba reemerges, Sonny is at the counter and he slides a partially filled out work order to him.

“I’ll need your contact info, and then if you could just read over it and sign at the bottom.”

Sonny feels his knees go weak as Barba pulls a pair of rectangular half-rim glasses out of his inner jacket pocket. He holds them up to his eyes, reading over the work order carefully and then he nods, adding his phone number and signing with a flourish.

As he slides his glasses away, he also tucks one of Sonny’s business cards into his pocket. “As I said,” he comments, “my tailor abandoned me with very little warning. If this goes well, you may find yourself with a new client on the roster.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Sonny says, and he means it. Barba’s clearly a man who enjoys the interplay of fabric and pattern, and he can think of a number of designs that would suit him. Designs that most other clients would balk at, but that Barba has the swagger to pull off and the attitude to match.

They shake hands one more time and then Barba swings his camel hair coat over his shoulders and leaves the shop, the bell ringing merrily above him.

The rest of the day is taken up with work and then an early dinner with his parents, a midweek tradition where he fills his father in on the shop goings-on and shrugs off his mother’s attempts at forcing him to eat three helpings.

He excuses himself when his phone rings and he sees that it’s a redirected call from the shop’s number.

“This is Sonny,” he answers.

“Sonny, this is Rafael Barba. Is this a bad time?”

“No, Mr. Barba, what can I do for you?”

The laugh that comes through the line is smoky and deep. “Well you can call me Rafael, for one. And I was wondering if perhaps you noticed a red cashmere scarf on your coat rack after I left. I can’t find it and I’m tracing my steps back with no luck yet.”

He closes his eyes, picturing the shop as it was when he locked up. “I’m sorry Rafael, I don’t think so, but I’ll have another look in the morning and let you know.”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

They say goodbye again, and then Sonny bids his parents a good night and heads back into Manhattan.

Rafael’s scarf is not there when he opens up the next morning, but Sonny’s text to let him know leads to a day of texting back and forth as Rafael keeps him updated on the hunt. Rafael is funny, he has a dry observational sense of humour, and Sonny finds himself enjoying their conversation as it shifts from politely informal to, by the end of the day, casually friendly.

Sonny likes Rafael, has felt an odd sort of giddiness all day as they’ve been speaking, and he’s fairly confident he hasn’t been imagining the flirtatious vibe flowing between them. He’s giving serious thought to asking if he’d like to get a drink, or maybe even dinner, when he stops by to pick up his alterations tomorrow.

When Friday comes, it comes with a fresh snowfall and a crisp reminder that Sonny has chosen to live somewhere with a wind chill index.

He doesn’t have a real fireplace, the insurance turned that idea down outright, but he does have an electric heater that looks like an old-timey wood stove, and he turns it on, enjoying the crackling sound of a non-existent fire and the very real heat it exudes as he unthaws.

Rafael arrives near enough to the end of the day that Sonny decides to just close the shop early. He locks the front door and flips the welcome sign around as Rafael hangs up his coat and a chunky knit scarf in alarmingly bright shades of blue and orange.

“That’s quite the pattern,” he comments, laughing at the moue of distaste on Rafael’s face.

“Yes, well, until my pashmina turns up, I’m stuck with my mother’s attempt at turning me into a baseball fan.”

“No no, I like it,” Sonny says, boldly reaching out to pull a bit of blue wool fluff out of Rafael’s hair. “I just don’t know if it goes with the pinstripe and paisley thing you’ve got going on today.”

Rafael turns his head at the last minute, grazing his cheek along Sonny’s hand with a half-smile.

Sonny returns the smile bashfully, and then nods towards the fitting room. “The pants are all set. Did you wear the supportive briefs?”

“Yes,” Rafael says. “I’ve already ordered a few more pairs, actually. I was surprised at how comfortable they were once I got used to them.”

When he steps back out and onto the platform, Sonny does a circuit around him and then kneels down to check how the new seams are holding up. He’s happy to see zero distortion around the zipper, no undue stress tugging at the fabric.

“How do they feel?” He asks, looking up at Rafael.

Rafael’s eyes glitter as he looks at Sonny kneeling in front of him. “Better than last time,” he says. “But I feel like I can still see more than I want to.”

There is still a certain amount of bulge, but as Rafael shifts on his feet there is no swaying to the fabric, the supportive briefs doing their job.

“I think this is about as good as you’re going to get, short of a tuck job.” Sonny admits, standing up. “But between buttoning your suit jacket and not being the centre of attention, I don’t think anyone’s going to be looking too closely.”

“What’s a tuck job?” Rafael looks at him curiously.

“Oh, it’s uh.” Sonny gestures vaguely and does a little shuffle to demonstrate. “It’s when you tug everything back, but if you’re not actually aiming for the flat front look you could also probably just do an uptuck, which involves a lot less contortioning. You just need to make sure your shirt or jacket is covering the tip really well.”

“An uptuck,” Rafael muses. “I’ll have to give that a try.”

“You can um – if you want to try it here, I can give you pointers.” Sonny feels his cheeks heat up, but he really does mean it in a professional capacity. If Rafael prefers the look with an uptuck, he’ll want to change out the zipper for something doubly reinforced.

Rafael smirks at him and unzips his trousers, reaching his hand into his pants to adjust himself before refastening them.

Sonny tries not to choke on his own saliva. He hadn’t thought he needed to clarify that Rafael should use the dressing room, but he’s also not going to complain.

“How’s that, then?” Rafael asks.

Sonny tries to look with a tailor’s eye, but all he sees is the thick outline of an enormous dick pointing straight up. It looks bigger now, possibly because of the way the fly area is cut, and Sonny is about to say something when he realizes the reason it looks bigger isn’t because of the fabric but because Rafael is erect.

“Does it look good?” Rafael says softly, looking down at Sonny.

Sonny clenches his hand into a fist, resisting the urge to palm himself in response.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it looks good. You should um. You should probably hang those back up so they’re fresh for tomorrow.”

Rafael slowly unzips them again, and each tooth coming out of the slider is a slow seduction. He steps out of them, hanging them gently over the bar of a nearby valet rack, and then he stands there, in shirt sleeves and tie, tight briefs and hard cock on display.

“Does it still look good?” He asks, running his knuckles up and down his shaft where it is distending the fabric.

Sonny nods, his mouth dry as he tries to respond. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yes,” he says simply, getting back on his knees in front of Rafael.

“May I?” He asks, his hand out but not touching.

Rafael licks his lips. “You may.” He breathes out.

His hand makes contact, his long fingers trailing up the shaft with the lightest of touches, his thumb coming up to swipe over the head that is just poking out of the waistband. It’s wet to the touch, and he absently brings his thumb to his mouth, tasting the salty fluid.

He gently tugs at the briefs, pulling them down Rafael’s legs to mid-thigh, and he rubs his palm against the tip, gathering up the pre to act as lubricant as he wraps his hand around the deliciously thick dick now bobbing in front of him.

He starts with slow assured strokes, his eyes focused on Rafael’s face to gauge what he likes. He hums when Sonny squeezes the tip just a little, and his head lolls back, eyes fluttering, when Sonny twists his wrist and speeds up.

Rafael’s own hands open and close, his fingers splaying out and then clenching shut as he gasps. Sonny flicks his thumb over the tip again and then brings his other hand up to tug ever so lightly on his balls, his nails scratching through the hair there.

His thighs begin to quiver and Sonny delicately pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, holding it in one hand as the other continues stripping Rafael’s cock until Rafael comes with one last shuddered gasp. Sonny catches his spend and then folds the handkerchief and wipes clean his hand and then Rafael’s softening cock.

As he tugs the briefs back up, Sonny looks up with an amused grin on his face. “What do you know, almost no bulge.”

Rafael huffs a laugh. “I’m not surprised, I don’t think there’s anything left in my balls right now. Maybe I should bring you with me to the wedding, have you do that again right before the ceremony.”

Sonny stands, a hand on Rafael’s hip for balance. “I think etiquette frowns on last minute additions to the guest list,” he murmurs. “But I’d be happy to offer a repeat performance some other time.”

“Mm,” Rafael agrees. “Maybe even in a bed. Or at the very least a sofa. Really just somewhere I don’t need to worry about my knees giving out on me.”

Rafael changes, and Sonny finishes tallying up the receipts for the day, including for the work done on Rafael’s suit.

“How are you paying?” Sonny calls to Rafael as he emerges from the fitting room.

“Cash, if that’s okay.” Rafael pulls a leather billfold out of his pocket.

“Yeah, no problem.” He slides the final bill over and shuts down the EFTPOS system for the night.

Transaction complete, he expects Rafael to take his garment bag and leave, but other than putting his coat on he doesn’t show any signs of departure. Sonny is trying to backtrack in his memory to see if he had actually gone through with asking Rafael out and somehow forgotten it, when Rafael solves the confusion for him.

“I know I can’t actually bring you to the nuptials, but I’ve been told to bring a plus-one to the rehearsal dinner tonight.”

He doesn’t look directly at Sonny while he says it, but Sonny notices Rafael watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah?” He says, slowly winding a silvery-blue scarf around his neck. His sisters all say it brings out the metallic tints in his hair and makes his eyes pop.

“Yeah,” confirms Rafael. “What do you say? Free food and drinks, and you can meet the woman forcing my cock into slim fit pants.”

“Sure.” Sonny agrees.

Rafael smiles like he is surprised, like he got the answer he was hoping for but not the one he expected.

“There’s time yet,” he says, as he follows Sonny out of the private back entrance and into a small loading zone. “Dinner’s not for another couple of hours and my apartment is on the way.”

Sonny smirks. “Anyplace you don’t have to worry about your knees, huh?”

Rafael just winks at him as they set off down the street.

**Author's Note:**

> Clara also makes and sells beautiful masks and provides masks to communities in need, so if you want to give all your friends and loved ones masks this holiday season, check her out! https://www.embroidermylife.com/


End file.
